I don't own FMA.
Prologue: The Day of the Eve of Sorrow
Six years.
It was six years and he didn't think he could manage it for much longer. But he'd hold on anyways, just on the slim chance he could still make it up.
Edward Elric was a weird kid - and that was by weird kid's standards. He dropped out of school when he was seven, but he was smarter than the teachers that taught high schoolers years older than him. He lived in a two-room apartment he paid for himself from odd jobs around town, and he read science books in his free time. Actually, he was able to read them while working - the only time he didn't was during winter, when the snow would get the books wet.
So, since it was winter, he was muttering strings of chemical components and tidbits from the seven books he'd read that morning while he mowed a lawn. The snowfall was light, and not many people were out, so the fifteen-year-old stuck out like a site thumb.
He was wearing a red jacket-hoodie that extended past his waist and hung off his arms, being a few sizes too big, and under that a black t-shirt and pants, along with elevator boots. Not much insulation from the cold. His hair, which was well past his shoulders now, was tied in a braid. He wore thick white gloves in both hands. The outfit wasn't very color-coordinated, but it looked nice put together.
Ed reached the end of the lawn and turned off Ms. Reed's lawn mower, pushing it up the driveway. He punched in the code for the garage door, ducked under as soon as he could fit, and left the machine in the corner. During all this he never broke his string of words.
"Water, 35 liters. Carbon, 20 kilograms. Ammonia, 4 liters. Line, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus, 800 grams, salt, 250 grams..." He paused less than a second to knock on Ms. Reed's door. "Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, 80 grams. Fluorine, 7.5, iron, 5-"
A wrinkled old lady with a kind face opened the door, making the socially challenged teen stop. "Hi. I, uh,finished mowing your lawn."
Ms. Reed thanked him quietly and pressed a couple bills and coins into his hand. He counted them, sticking his foot in the door so she couldn't close it. "Hold up, you gave me nearly 500 cens more than I said. Here."
"It's all right dear," she assured. "It's Kinjuku tomorrow, you're out working, and I think you should have it for working so close to the holiday."
He handed her the money, his face turning into a scowl of disapproval. "I really shouldnt, then."
"Why not? What is it?" Ms. Reed asked, concerned.
The annoyed look on his face didn't leave as he walked down her porch into the dying sunlight.
"It's nothing much. I just don't really believe in that stupid kid stuff anymore, you know? Kinjuku's just an excuse for kids to get free stuff. Why should I think something that can't be proven by science is fact? Science is the answer to everything."
The old woman sighed and closed the door. Ed trudged slowly down her driveway, and he whispered into the night, to none in particular;
"And besides... Without him it's just another day full of emptiness."
-;-;-:-
Ed slammed the oak door behind him, kicking off his boots as soon as he was alone and then plopping on the couch. "I'm home, Al," he muttered, glancing at a photo of a six-year-old boy sitting on the coffee table. "Stupid people. They keep saying 'Happy Kinjuku' when I'm at the point of caring into negative numbers. It's not the same without you."
He sat up and continued talking while he pulled off his gloves. "But I did get some more money. Soon I'll have enough to travel out to find you. But first I have to pay bills and taxes..." He sighed, pulling his right glove off with his teeth. "Being a fifteen-year-old legal adult is annoying sometimes."
His right arm was made of metal and shiny, and he paused in his rant about his day to stare at it for a moment. "You know, Al, I miss Granny Pinako too. Her granddaughter would be like thirteen by now, right? I wonder where she is... Or where you are." He laughed, shedding the jacket and throwing it into a pile of similar ones in the corner. "How funny would it be if you were in the next town over? Or across the world? That'd be either a waste or an excuse to keep working for cash."
As Ed walked into the kitchen to grab something from the fridge, he passed a tiny, scrawny tree in another corner next to teh door. It had one ornament on it - colored red, of course - and was surrounded by a pile of shredded needles. The tradition of using evergreens for Kinjuku had come to be only a few years ago, but the people embraced it like they did for anything else involving the holiday.
He shook his head, making his braid sway. "Stupid Kinjuku, stupid Otikku, stupid sixth year without Al," he muttered, sticking his head inside the fridge.
Kinjuku was a holiday celebrated in midwinter (the date was calculated using the rising and setting of the sun and moon, but Ed didn't care much about reasons) and was focused around unseen gifts - mostly giving, forgiveness, gratitude, all those lovey dovey things Ed could care no less about. The holiday was nearly as old as the country itself, but no one really knew exactly why it was started. Otikku was also known as the Spirit of Wishes, or St. Otikku to the old people. He was a forever-young boy who could grant wishes left by children under their trees (they used to leave them above the fireplace or on the table), in the form of gifts and the occasional note of advice. Children looked forward to it all year, even older teens who shouldn't believe anymore.
No one had ever seen the Spirit of Wishes, but Ed wished he could just for a second, to somehow re-spark his belief. He stopped enjoying the holiday since the incident almost seven years ago.
As he sat down back on the couch, images flashed through Ed's mind, and he squashed most just before they got to the point of giving him an attack.
The frightened face of a young boy as he melted down before his eyes.
His own leg being pulled out of its socket.
Equivalent Exchange. Pain.
Life for life.
A shock of gold hair, bronze eyes, a smile quickly ripped off an innocent face...
Screams.
The smell of iron and burning.
Laughter. A white void.
Tears blurring his vision as he saw countless things flash before his eyes.
Pain. More pain. Confusion. Everything. Nothing.
He didn't notice he was hyperventilating until his darting eyes locked onto the photo of the six-year-old. The smile and the bright colors of his face brought him back from the darkness his mind was putting him through. Ed shook his head to shake off the last fragments of memories and then stood up, looking at the smiling boy questioningly as if he could communicate with the picture. It seemed to him like the smile was trying to tell him something-
'Write down your wish.'
He knew the voice was his conscience, but it sounded like the boy in the picture (Al), so he called it Head-Al. "Ya know what I'm writing already. So does Old Man Otikku."
'The real Al would have wanted you to...'
And within seconds he was scribbling a few words on a paper and setting it semi-neatly in the branches of the tiny, scrawny tree before going to the other room to get ready for bed.
On the paper was written these words:
Otikku-
Give me back my family, you stupid 'wish-giving' creepo.
-Ed
I know, I'm leaving you in the dark and it's short. But it's only a prologue.
Anyways, welcome to my little side story, FullMetal Express! I watched Polar Express last night and I was like, "I could totally do this in FanFiction," so I did and here you go. This is going to extend well past the new year, actually, but it all happens in the same ten minutes, if you know what I mean. *Wenk wenk wink* And Kinjuku is an Xmas ripoff, but the true identity of the other train kids and the Spirit of Wishes himself will be surprising to all of you. Well, except Winry. You'll know 'er when you see 'er.
See you all next time! All aboard for the FanFiction Express!
